A Random Thought from Today

In Genesis 1, we see the hands of G'D forming the earth - He fashions the sun, the moon, and the stars, He pulls from the waters the land on which we walk, and He crafts the figures of a myriad of flora and fauna, setting them loose across the earth. It seems as though every time G'D makes something new, it has more and more of an impact until finally, we reach the creation of man! 

As G'D looks fondly at Adam, the crown of creation, He blesses him and gifts him with all of the earth's bazillion and one living things, and man becomes dominant over these, naming them all. 

Today, as I travelled two hours to an orchard in the Virginia mountains, I passed hundreds of these creations. I watched the distant sapphire mountains sweep across the horizon under the gleaming jewel of sun. I saw moss-touched thickets rise and fall as we passed, sprinkled with flowers colored fire and fuchsia. I watched wispy cotton-ball clouds soar overhead, pushed by a gentle summer breeze. And while I was watching this beauty go by, I started wondering. 

Creation is an expression of the love of G'D for man. He doesn't paint the harlequin sunsets so He can watch them Himself! He didn't teach the birds to sing so He could delight in their simple refrains! He did it all so that we, His most beloved creation, can take pleasure in the things of this world, understanding that every thing of beauty here just points to Him in the next...

You can look to the cross and see that G'D loves you. You can look to the Old Testament and see the ancient plan, formed through the covenants, that G'D created because He loves us. But we can see the love of G'D for us in an even simpler way - through the marvelous works of His hands that bring color to Earth and joy to our hearts. 

"And G'D saw all that He had made, and it was good"

Wrapped Around Our Fingers

"The Rosary is a chain which links heaven and earth."

- Saint Therese of Lisieux

In 1208, Saint Dominic was granted the gift of the rosary by Our Lady, supplying to the human race a simple devotion through which many graces could be ferried to the Church. As ages passed, the humble string of beads became one of the most common prayers of the Catholic Church, being recited in pairs, families, and congregations across the globe. The rosary has become a staple of the religious habit, being suspended on the belts of Dominicans, Franciscans, Carmelites, and various others. The rosary is not a devotion which sits in the shadows of our faith, but is prominently depicted everywhere we turn. 

For many Catholics, it can be difficult to truly understand the beauty of the rosary. We know that praying it comes with a myriad of spiritual benefits and that Our Lady constantly requests that the people of earth pray it fervently for the conversion of sinners, but it can be hard to truly appreciate this "monotonous" prayer...until you're faced with its beauty head-on by someone who is already in love with it. 

This school year, I was blessed with a particularly wonderful chemistry teacher. A man who always begins class with a smile and a prayer, Mr. Chaves truly inspired me to explore deeper the devotion of the rosary. As a chemistry teacher, Mr. Chaves checks all the boxes - he teaches us students in a personable way and helps us to understand when we just can't wrap our minds around the mystery that is chemistry. As a Catholic, Mr. Chaves checks all those boxes too. Often, before class, he finds a way to stick in a quick plug about the awesome gift of the rosary. One can easily see the Christlike joy radiating from Mr. Chaves' smile, and he daily works to emulate the virtues of Our Lord. I have no doubt that every day, when Mr. Chaves prays the rosary, he prays it for us. 

My family always prays the rosary together in the evenings, and, as cradle-Catholics, all of my siblings and I have spent this family time going through the motions and saying the words on repeat, without truly knowing what we are saying. The beauty of "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee..." - it all goes over our heads! But there comes a point in every Catholic's journey where we come to embrace the rosary as Our Lady's hand in ours and depend on it for strength throughout our days. 

If you are reading this and have not yet realized the true beauty of this hymn to Our Mother, then I encourage you to continue praying it, to continue asking for the guidance of Our Lady in all that you do. Wrap those 59 beads around your hand and feel Our Lady holding you there, watching over you. I promise she will never leave you alone, though it may feel like that in the moment. And one day, when all this is finished, we will be able to fall into the arms of Our Blessed Mother and truly feel her there, with us. 

Mother of G'D, Mother of the Church, and Mother of Mine, pray for us!!!

A Monday Reflection

Happy Memorial Day! I recently came across this reflection, written by a close friend of mine, and it touched me in an especially deep way...I hope you find the love of Christ here, as I did! Enjoy!

Dancing with Jesus

Standing in an empty ballroom, I can see my reflection in the perfectly shined wood floors as the smell of cedar wafts throughout the room. It’s not expansive, yet it seems to hold the whole world within it. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, emanating a pure white light that dances across the walls. I blink a few times in disbelief as the rays take on color and form.

A beautiful woman materializes before me, wearing a simple, ivory gown. It reaches just above her bare feet, trimmed with the finest of pearls. Her sea blue eyes meet mine cheerily as I notice her regal crown. Vines rimming her head and yet still growing into a canvas of wildflowers, bouquets of every color creating a veil that trails ever behind her. She bows her head to me in acknowledgement, brushing some of her jet-black hair behind her ear, and moves towards the windowsill as if awaiting another arrival.

Still in awe of this Lady, berating myself for not having shown more respect to someone so much better than I, I am startled by another figure as He comes from the light.

Overtaken by awe, I fall to the ground as He approaches me. My knees are tucked into my chest as I lie before Him. Such terror, such sadness arise within me. I feel as if I might turn to dust then and there. A sob threatens to wrack my lungs when His soft caress puts me in a stupor.

His fingertips lift my chin, forcing my eyes to meet His impenetrable ones. Dark, brown hair frames his face. It’s clean but littered with sawdust. I can see the beginnings of a beard growing on His face, His lips carved in a smile ever so slightly.

“Are you ready, My Child?” He asks me.

His low, smooth-sounding voice resounds like rolling thunder, yet it also reminds me of a cool breeze across a stream in the deserted woods.

I hesitate. Is He talking to me? But there’s no one else for Him to have meant. I look back to the wonderful Lady, and she smiles at me encouragingly.

Slowly but surely, I reply, “Yes, my Jesus… but not on my own.”

He smiles, this time a full smile, opened wide and ending with a chuckle as the rays from the chandelier transform into all the saints and angels of Heaven. I can hear them whispering words of faith, hope, and love, urging me on and stunning me with their kindness. One last glance at the Virgin as I see her mouth, “Fiat,” and I know what must be done.

Returning to Christ’s gaze, His eyes implore me once more. And some part of me, in the deepest depths of my soul, in the sin I’ve always managed to turn back to, and the doubt and fear which the devil has tormented me with, cries out. It tempts me to remain in what I know, in the certainty of earthly things, things tangible and so much more easily obtained than that of Heaven.

The room goes dark, and I am alone. Utterly alone. Helpless. Weak. A sinner unworthy of saving. A failure impossible for success. I see myself for what I am and suddenly realize that what I am, He is not. The path which I would take is the road which Christ would forsake. To come to what I do not know, to a God who is entirely beyond, I must go where I know nothing.

And at this revelation, some light is restored to the room, just enough for me to see my Savior once again. He stretches one had out towards me, a hand pierced my continual wrongdoings. I anxiously look up, only mustering the courage to behold His crown, thorns penetrating the flesh that gives me new life, which I so often reject. And there are these flowers interwoven into the diadem, flowers like His Mother’s, that glorify His pain. Finally, I see the rip in His toga, where the soldiers threw a lance in His side, and it shocks me. Still, blood and water gush forth, a fount of mercy and love, freely forgiving the world for their sins. A world that includes me. Little old me.

And in that moment, I respond to Christ, “There’s one more thing, so that my sins might be forgiven…” and I begin to pour out every misdeed I have ever done. But it’s more like He draws them out of me. Because the more I see Him for who He is, the more I love Him. And the more I love Him, the more sorrow I feel for my sins, the more I want to renounce myself, the more I want only Him. Christ alone. I am seized by love and unable to let go.

Finally, I say, “My Jesus, now, I am ready,” and He takes my hand, leading me onto the dance floor.

Fiat Voluntas Tua (#1)

On her tiptoes, Maria Pluta reached up and plopped the floral wreath onto the statue's polished ceramic head. Airy Marian tunes echoed from the mouths of her mother and brothers, standing behind her. After crowning the motionless statue, she returned to stand beside her three-year-old brother Joseph. She looked to her mother, who was just then finishing singing Salve Regina with one-year-old Elisha getting antsy on her hip - squealing along, clapping two pudgy hands together as he did so. 

Six-year-old Maria joined in with Joseph as Mother began to pray the Hail Mary. Then, with a reverent cross as an example for her children, she released a squirming Elisha to the creaking wooden floorboards of their Wisconsin home. 

"See how happy Mary is?" Mother asked her children, still hanging around the family's altar, bedecked in peacock blue for the month of May. "You have made our mother so happy with your prayers."

Elisha let out a high pitched squeal and tore across the room, followed closely by Joseph, eager to take part in whatever his little brother was doing. 

"Would you like to come help me ice the cake, Maria?" Mother asked, noticing that Maria was still hovering near the altar. 

"Okay!" Maria exclaimed, her face lighting up with a smile as she raced into the kitchen. Her mother's blueberry bundt cake, which had been extracted from the oven about an hour before their ceremony, sat waiting on the counter beside a bowl of soupy white glaze. Blueberries, their color leaking out from their time in the oven, colored the cake's ridge a pleasant indigo. Grabbing a spatula from one of the many crocks scattered about the countertop, she dipped it into the bowl of glaze and watched it drip back to its container. Licking the spatula, she handed it to her mother, who was carefully sliding the cake from the tray it had been sitting on to their best cake stand. 

"Thank you, Maria," Mother said, taking the spatula from her eldest daughter's hands. "You did a wonderful job crowning Mary today. You made your patroness very, very happy."

"Patroness?" Maria asked curiously. 

"Yes," Mother said, dipping the spatula into the bowl. "With the name Maria, your patroness is our Blessed Mother - particularly Our Lady of Czestochowa. That's why you have her icon in your bedroom."

Maria thought about the icon in her bedroom. It was a tiny thing, somber in color, positioned over her dresser. She had often rubbed her hand across the burnished golden halos arcing over the heads of Mary and the Child Jesus. On the same image, she had traced her fingers across the two long slits running down Mary's darkened face. She had always assumed it had been dropped, but not long ago, her father had picked her up and told her the story of Our Lady of Czestochowa - how thieves had tried to steal it but could not, so they slashed it twice and ran away. Now, every icon of the Virgin of Czestochowa bore those two slashes. 

"When we named you, we asked Our Lady to protect you in a special way, and she has," Mother explained. "She has given you the grace to replicate her fiat, her yes, every day."

"Her yes?" Maria questioned, accepting the spatula from her mother and beginning to replicate the drizzling motions. 

"When the Angel Gabriel came to Mary in Nazareth, she could have said no to being the Mother of G'D. But instead of being saying no, Mary obeyed and trusted in His plan. I see you trusting G'D every day when you are obedient to me and Father and even to your siblings," Mother explained. "You see, Maria, Mary is your special example for how to be a saint, and so if you continue to learn about her and pray for her help, she will bless you and help you to say yes to G'D, as she did."

The cake, perfectly drizzled and looking as much like a crown as a bundt cake could, sat finished on the shining cake stand. Maria looked at it with happiness - she loved being with her mother, and she loved to make G'D happy. If doing what Mary did would make G'D happy, then she would do it for Him. 

Her mother carried the cake into the dining room, with Maria trailing afterwards. Her mind was filled with ideas of saying yes, just like Mary had...and she knew she had her patroness to guide her in making G'D happy!

"Mary said, 'Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to Your word.'

- Luke 1:38

Behold Your Mother

It was a warm night in Galilee. The small common room was lit only by the soft light of the moon, and by the candles that had been lit just before dinner earlier that night. Mary sat in a chair by one of the low-placed windows, her arm propping up her chin by means of the thick ledge. 

My G'D, Mary prayed, how great you are, to create something so beautiful.

Mary could stare for hours at the moon. It was those little things - the mystery of the moon beyond their world, the angelic whispering of the grass, the cool lapping of seawater on her bare feet - that brought her so much joy. She marveled at how beautiful it was...marveled at the love G'D would have to have to create something so beautiful for a people who had betrayed Him so often. She had seen that love first hand, no more than one year ago. And she had held, for 33 years, the tiny hands that had once shaped that same moon. 

A familiar longing pulled at Mary's heart as she thought of her Son...of that first night in Bethlehem during which she had first gazed upon the sleeping figure of her infant G'D. She recalled looking at her Son the way she had always looked at the moon - with awe, with joy, with peace, marveling at the great works of G'D...

It had never been easy being so far from Jesus. She knew, from the hour he ascended to His Father, that it would not be long before she joined Him in the Kingdom, but it pained her that she didn't know when. It was like walking with the shaky legs of a toddler - there was no one there to steady her!

Mary laughed to herself at the thought. For 33 years she had been Jesus' mother, but she always knew she relied on Him in a way other parents didn't...He had always been so quick to help, so eager to take away her burdens..."Let me carry that, Mama!" He would exclaim, running over to take away whatever difficult thing she had been carrying at the time. 

Then one day, just a year ago, He had taken away everyone's heaviest burden - their sin - and now Mary was alone. Since He had gone, she wondered all the time why she was still there...hadn't her work been to raise the Son of G'D? Was the plan of G'D really to leave her here, after all the work was done, to wait for Him to call her home?

But I trust You, Lord, she murmured to herself, I know You have something wonderful for me here, still...

Just then, the front door opened and John strode in, a pail of water in his arms. Mary looked away from the window and smiled at her son. 

"You can set it down there, John," she announced, standing up. "I'll take care of it."

"Thank you, Mother," he said, respectfully. "But I can do it."

Mary sat back down in the rickety wooden chair, the one thing she had brought with her from Nazareth, and the one thing she still had from Joseph...

She watched carefully as John rinsed their supper plates in the lukewarm water and set them to dry on the table in the center of the room. Mary admired him greatly for his courage - John had done so much, already, for the Christians. Even through the constant persecution they faced for their faith in Jesus, John had remained strong. She was worried at first - the oppression began so quickly, after all! - but with men like John heading the effort to bring the Good News to others, she couldn't imagine it collapsing. And she knew it wouldn't - her Son had brought the truth to Galilee, and she was sure, soon, it would be shared with the whole world. 

"Well, I'm off to bed, Mother," John said with a smile. 

"Sleep well, John," Mary replied, smiling back. "Don't worry - I'll blow out the candles for you."

John nodded and headed through a door on the back wall, leaving Mary, again, to her thoughts. She continued her wondering about the will of G'D for her - He had not left her alone, He had left her with a task...but what?

Woman, behold your son...

The remembered words echoed softly in Mary's heart. She remembered that moment as clearly as she knew her own name. She recalled the brutal anguish of seeing her Son on the Cross, dying, the weight of the sins of millions on His strong, carpenter's shoulders. She recalled the horror of His final breath, the anger at seeing His body so disfigured, the heaviness in her heart as the stone tomb was closed by that large stone...but most of all, she remembered His words, which she kept hidden in her heart. 

My son? She remembered thinking. But You are my Son! And now I have nothing left!

They need a mother, the little voice whispered again. Someone to do for them as you did for Me. Someone to cry to, someone to bandage their wounds, someone to hold them in their desperation...

A mother? Mary breathed. Am I to be their mother too?

But the little voice did not respond. Mary thought deeply, turning from the moon and putting her head in her hands. Surely He meant the Christians...was she called to be a mother to His children? To guide them, encourage them...to teach them to love her Son?

Lord, she prayed. This must surely be Your plan for me. Help me to love them as You love them...

Standing up, Mary pushed the chair back to its place under the dish-covered table. Smiling to herself, she again recalled the memory of holding her Son in her arms for the very first time. Had He called her to do that again? 

Yes, He had...and there was so much work to be done!

And son...behold your mother!

How to Keep Smiling (Because You're Not Alone!)

One of my favorite descriptions of the Catholic Church is the "communion of saints". It's a beautiful reminder of who we're called to be and of who exactly is cheering us on to reach this goal. 

This is such a beautiful thought! Hearing that the Church is a "communion of saints" means that we are never alone - there are always holy men and women cheering us on our entire lives, until we go to join them!

One way I have always imagined this is through an experience I had last year on my crew team (for those of you who are not familiar with crew, it's rowing a boat). At the beginning and end of every crew season, you are given the chance to row on these rowing machines to show your progression throughout the year. It's 2000 meters, which is pretty far (about 1.24 miles) and can be very, very taxing after the first two or three minutes. While you were rowing those very painful 2000 meters as fast as you possibly could, you had about eight or nine kids encouraging and praising you, giving you the strength to keep at it. 

In my head, I've always imagined that in a way, that is how the saints operate. I like the idea of them gathering around and encouraging you, especially when you're having a hard time. Life can be really taxing - even more so than rowing 2000 meters consecutively! - so having the encouragement and prayers from the saints is a really beautiful thing! 

It's pretty easy for me to lose hope on tests sometimes because, unlike my other friends, I don't have classes with anyone really close and so I can't study with them or talk to them about it all. Because of this, I like to imagine that when I'm taking a test, in particular a really, really scary geometry test (like the one I'm taking tomorrow!), my best friends in heaven are praying for me and cheering me on, maybe whispering a reminder into my ear. Or perhaps, when I'm running for crew and I'm absolutely dying (because I'm NOT a runner...), my saint friends are running on beside me, or cheering on the sidelines. 

Over the past few years, I've really tried to connect myself with my friends in heaven. Just like I want to learn everything about my best friends on earth, I try to learn as much as I can about my saints. This comes in handy when I am doing all sorts of things - for example, when I'm writing an essay for one of my classes, I can ask for the intercession of Giulia Gabrieli because I know she loved to write and was very good at it. Then I can imagine her sitting next to me and writing with me, and that's always quite encouraging. Also, I've gotten into the habit of finding quotes from my saints and putting them on the inside of my locker door (which is JAM PACKED, unfortunately, so I can't add any more...) - it's like they're talking to me! 

My point in all this is...the saints want to be your best friends! And they're the best ones you'll ever have. These ordinary people made the journey through life and made it to G'D in Heaven, and they're reaching out their hands for you to join them! I encourage you, if you haven't already, to research deeply your patron saint, your confirmation saint, or some saints who have always stood out to you, and ask for their intercession in everything you do. They will not abandon you, and through their holy examples, with the grace of G'D, we can reach our goal...Heaven!!! 

May G'D go with you!

How I Found My Favorite Bible Verse

Do you have a favorite Bible verse? Most Catholics do, because of our deep devotion to the Bible. We understand the Bible to be written by men and inspired by the Holy Spirit - the Word of G'D! Readings from the Bible pop up all over Catholic liturgies, from the Mass to the Liturgy of the Hours to a myriad of blessings and prayers. Even the word "amen" is biblical! Because of the way the scriptures are so present in our lives, it is very easy to get caught in the beauty of a particular verse. 

It took me a very long time to find a verse that truly spoke to me. Whenever I was asked, I would recite the first verse from Revelation 12: "And a great sign appeared in the sky, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon at her feet and on her head a crown of twelve stars". I remember very clearly sitting on the bristly, multicolored, and very ugly carpet at my elementary school after the last day of fifth grade, skimming through the book of Revelation and coming across that verse, then thinking about what a beautiful description of Mary it was. I think I acknowledged that verse as my "favorite" before that moment, but I distinctly remember reading it then. 

So for years I would call this Bible verse my favorite because I loved how they described Our Lady. 

But then one day, in the recent past, I came across another beautiful verse from Revelation that really stood out to me. You know how life is sort of like a roller coaster? You have good days, you have bad days, and sometimes, those bad days sort of take hold for longer than a day. One of my favorite questions from these instances is probably "why?" 

Those bad times feel like they can take over your whole life and ruin everything. Those bad times feel like they are your life, and you can't escape it, and you're doomed to live a life of depression forever. But of course this is not true, because, if we stick to the analogy, life is a roller coaster and eventually you'll be soaring again. 

What I remember in these difficult times is that this life, and any grief we experience in it, is not all there is. We don't just cease to exist after we breath our final breaths...there is a beautiful land awaiting us ruled by a King who loves all of us deeply, even to His own dying breath. It is hope that I remember in these difficult times! 

When the world feels like it's falling apart, when it feels like nothing can go right, when it feels like you're a failure, remember that there is something greater than all this, something far more lovely and marvelous than all our best memories combined. Remember that if you cling to the Cross of Christ - Christ, Who was abandoned by His own friends in His time of great suffering and killed by those He came to save - if you put all your trust in Him and grow to depend on him for your comfort and avoid sin as best you can, He will guide you, His most precious child, to the kingdom where G'D has called you!

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, 

neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more,

for the former things have passed away."

- Revelation 21:4